


Musain Rouge

by CandyRotten



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Giuchie Giuchie ya ya dada, M/M, Moulin Rouge References, Multi, almost crossdressing, gender roles swapped
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-07 22:26:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CandyRotten/pseuds/CandyRotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When people described the famous cabaret Musain Rouge, one expression stood out: 'Upside-down'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meet the Musain Rouge

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to dearest @JZNovaes for Beta reading! Lots of love -Courf

When people described the famous cabaret Musain Rouge, one expression stood out: 'Upside-down'.  


The Musain Rouge, opposed to the usual cabarets, had a gender-swap of roles. The dancers and waiters were all male and the jobs for men, like bartending, security, and even running the business were meant for women. Of course, the Musain was frowned upon when it opened its doors to public. It wasn't very decent for the age.  
The year is 1947. The war between the Allied forces and the Axis powers ended two years ago. But the people on the streets are hungry and frightened. The war left a huge trauma on people's minds. The beloved ones lost, their hometowns destroyed, burned down to ashes, bombs that left a trail of destruction. Many people were miserable. That is when the Musain Rouge idea happened. In a cabaret where men are the sexual symbol could be used for widows and even men who needed to forget the horror of the war.  


"Ladies and Gentleman!" A soft voice cried out from the stage on the dark cabaret, a spotlight turned to the owner of such voice. The master of ceremony was a woman, as expected. She had light blonde hair and strikingly beautiful eyes. Her outfit for the night were dark trousers and jacket, with a white top made for ladies and a bowtie, with a gem that looked like a ruby on the knot. For begginers in the cabaret, it was a bizarre image, such a gorgeous lady wearing predominantly clothes for gentlemen. But for people who went on the Musain often, it was quite thrilling to see her outfit vary. It was beautiful in her as well. Her hair was done in a bun with a pin of the same gem of her bowtie.  


"Bon soir, and welcome, once again, to the Musain Rouge!" She bowed to the audience's clapping. "As some of you might not know, my name is Cosette and I invite you to our delightful show!" Cosette walked from a corner to another of the stage, looking at all the people in the tables and on the bar. "Reminders that" She said, upon looking at the counter. "All guests who tip a dancer gets the drink of the day, a delight from the caribbean, and yet with a hint of the swiss pleasures, the Chocolate Piña." She winked and the guests, some already looking forward to it or the show itself. "Brought to you by the lovely hands of my darling Éponine!" The spotlight ran over the walls to shine a light on the bartender, Éponine. Her hair the color of chocolate was down on her shoulders, and she dressed like a usual male bartender, with a shirt meant for men, a dark vest that matched the color of her trousers and a bowtie as well. She cracked her hips to a side and waved at the guests, for her beauty and alcoholic treats would attract some of the men and even women too.  


The spotlight returned to Cosette, the MC.  


"And now, to the show you are expecting!" Some whistling and cheering started. "Tonight's show is 'L'amour and all the jazz', as our american friends dare to say!" The guests laughed. "Please enjoy yourselves while you are in here, merci!" She bowed once more and left the stage, with a round of applause only for her that a young man called Marius always started. Marius was a young man whose family could buy his way out of the army. He had graduated on pharmacy, and he was introduced to the Musain by a colleague. When he first stepped in there, he fell for Cosette, and now was always around. Unfortunately Éponine was in love with Marius as well, but he only had eyes for her friend.  


Music began to play. The show was about to start, spotlights still on the stage. It started playing jazz, a now more upbeat rhythm that was appreciated in the whole world, thanks to the Americans aiding around. Some dancers, all male of course, began walking in. Some dressed in short shorts, other in tighter trousers, all in the same style of jazz dancers, with batons and a penguin-styled tuxedo, a normal tie. All of them were young boys, some younger than Marius, but only a year or two.  


Most of them were students, and were there for money, that wasn't little at all; it was better than what women got paid to do the very same job.  
As they entered, two boys of the same age of Marius burst in, the security guard, Azelma, letting them in after inspecting their pocket's contents.  


"Come on Enjolras, it's started already!" One of them, with crazy dark hair and twinkly eyes hissed, trying to not talk louder than the music itself. With him came dragged a blonde male, Enjolras, looking not even a bit amused with all of Musain Rouge.  


"Calm down, Courfeyrac! It's just a show, you come here every night anyway." Enjolras groaned as he was pushed to a chair on the table closest to the stage possible. He glanced briefly at the dancers, paying attention to the surroundings.  


"Every possible night." Courfeyrac scowled, sitting down as well, eyes trained on the dancers. "This place is a gem, Enjolras. Come on, you have to relax a bit from your studies. No one needs a president who wears a frown all the time." He grinned and waved for a waiter, who came around to get orders and announce, in a low tone, the tipping offer made by Cosette. He blinked and thanked him, knowing exactly where his money would go.  


"I do not 'wear a frown' all the time. I am just focused and serious about my future role in society. I aspire big, you know that." The handsome blonde said, ordering a glass of white wine.  


"Suuuure. Now shut up." Courfeyrac batted his hand in dismissal as the dancers came to a formation. A singer dancer appeared, dressed differently from his colleagues. He wore royal blue for his penguin tuxedo and a top hat, and wore an actual romper. His baton was blue as well and his bowtie was striped with the colors of the french flag. As he walked in singing, many of the guests started wolf-whistling. The dancer himself was very handsome, with long, strawberry blonde hair that was tied with a red satin ribbon, a waist far too slim to be considered a man’s and big round eyes. And his voice itself wasn't bad, was quite pleasing to sore ears, as he was a sight for sore eyes.  


Enjolras raised an eyebrow a bit but it was bigger when he looked at Courfeyrac. His eyes were glued to the main dancer, lips parted slightly. If this was an American cartoon, his eyes would be hearts, his jaw would be on the floor and he'd be drooling out an entire ocean. Enjolras had never seen his best friend like that, not even when he was with his girlfriends (who never lasted a week) and boyfriends (also never lasted a week).  


"Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac, are you in love with....a cabaret dancer?" Enjolras asked, eyes narrowed, downright scared. And judging by the lack of response, only more of the crazed-haired male staring at the main dancer, his fears were confirmed.  


"Oh, merde." He muttered under his breath, his palm meeting his forehead. Stupid Courfeyrac.


	2. Meet the Main Dancer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so short! Sorry! I promise I will bring more chapters soon. xoxo

Jehan's eyes were already adjusted to the bright spotlight directed to his eyes, even though they were almost blinding for some. He focused on the audience and on them only, for they had to enjoy so he'd get his money and nice tips. Dancing and singing wasn't a hard job when you were a background dancer, but when you were the main one, it was. It required perfection.  


Jehan was a student of literature, aiming to be a writer someday. His poetry was very beautiful, but he had to find a way to survive on his own, gaining his own salary. That's when he met Musichetta, the lovely owner of the Musain Rouge, who offered him the strange job of being a male dancer. At first, he refused, but reconsidered. Now, with his looks and moves and voice sometimes, he got to the higher position among his other friends who were also dancers. And he was happy.  


Getting admirers was what he hadn't been expecting at all. Every time he was on stage, he got tips from sometimes the same people, which made him blush on the first time. Now, it was usual. He sometimes enjoyed flirting with the admirers.  


As he danced the nights, he noticed how the very same man sat on the very same table, so he could get a good view of the stage, or, as he noticed, of him.  
He even got there earlier for the table. It was so common people didn't even sit anymore on that table, knowing he would show up as usual. Jehan was intrigued by the man, and his twinkly eyes, dark hair and lovely smile made Jehan's heart leap a bit on his chest. Just another admirer, but this one had something that attracted Jehan like no other could, even if some of his own admirers were very handsome and with muscles, sometimes soldiers.  


His act came to an end, and he counted mentally. He had glanced 37 times to the young lad close to the stage. He couldn't help but blush at that. Well, what could he do? He was handsome and very very cute. As the background dancers bowed and went down the stage to sit by the tables, to charm and flirt with the costumers, Jehan bowed and exited to his dressing room. All tips he got went there, as he sometimes didn't feel like flirting with the customers. But before he left, a flower fell to his feet, thrown by that young male Jehan saw. He smiled bright and Jehan picked it up. It was an orchid. Those were lovely. He smelled its scent and shyly blew a kiss to the man, before rushing backstage.  


As he sat on his stool to remove some of the glittery gel the dancers put on their faces, a girl with blue glasses walked in nonchalantly. 

"Hullo, Jehan." She had a foreign accent, probably nordic, even if her features were nothing like the nordic stereotype: she had dark hair and dark eyes. In her hand, a small basket with folded money and sometimes a napkin with things wrote for him. "Your admirers were pleased with your outfit tonight. Tight." She chuckled and handed him the basket for him to analyze the contents.  


Jehan chuckled. "Well, mon ami, what can I say? You do an excellent job in determining what they will like or not." His fingers picked the notes, counting them.  
The girl smiled. She was part of the show staff, aiding with outfits and general production. "It's one of my many talents." She brushed a dark lock from her forehead.  


"I'll leave you to your gifts. Farewell." She waved and left, leaving the tired dancer be.  


Jehan waved as well, analyzing the writings. Many were only sweet nothings, some were really dirty and sexual (which made him blush) and some were trying to write poetry, which made him laugh at the failed attempts. Writing sometimes was tricky, but he knew how to work with it well. However, he set the basket aside and looked at the favourite gift of the night: the orchid. It was a beautiful flower, white with its center fuchsia with small streaks of yellow on it. And it smelled wonderfully. The man who admired him so intently and devotedly as if he were a saint gave that to him and that made him feel very warm inside. He needed to know his admirer. But he'd let him have the initiative, after all, he was the one being courted. He didn't mind it though. He was a dancer, wasn't he? He glanced at the flower on his table and giggled, biting his lower lip and feeling the sticky liquid he put there so it could shine. At least he put on a good show for such gorgeous twinkly dark eyes. Maybe he was in love, he thought for a moment, combing his hair. Maybe.


	3. Courfeyrac, you idiot.

Enjolras could barely believe on what he had just witnessed, as he combed his golden locks with his hand. "Courfeyrac, you idiot. You just had to fall in love with a cabaret dancer, didn't you?" It was completely out of someone's right mind to do such a thing, it was completely nuts. No one dated a cabaret dancer, or even had feelings towards them. That wasn't right but then, it was Courfeyrac. The stupid young male always came up with the worst ideas and situations to be in. 

"But Enjolras!" Courfeyrac cried out helplessly, elbows resting on the table and holding his face with his palms, with a lost gaze. He wore the silliest of smiles. "You saw him, didn't you? Isn't he lovely?"  


"He, above being male, is a dancer!" Enjolras tried, hands up in the air in exasperation. Maybe he could knock some sense into his best friend's mind.  


"And? You know I play the game for both teams." Courfeyrac winked. "But him being a dancer means nothing, Enjolras. He is a person, okay? Might be a student, in need of money or someone who just lost his job. He can be honest and decent." He nodded seriously.  


Enjolras could barely believe on what he was hearing. He looked around and saw a few of the dancers sitting on customer's laps or tables, clearly seducing them. There was low music on the place and drinks were being served around. An enthusiastic male tried to flirt with a black haired and dark eyed girl that was hosting a poker game. She denied politely his advances but they seemed to be getting to her, judging by her smiles growing wide. It was clear to Enjolras what kind of 'services' the dancers offered after their show.  


"Courfeyrac, you idiot. Look around yourself." Enjolras hissed as his friend did as requested. "Look at that one. That dancer was by the main one's side. Now he is sitting on one of the player's laps, that one partially bald due to an injury." He motioned with his head discreetly. "And that other? His shirt has four buttons open now and one of his legs is over a man's lap." He rolled his eyes. "These men get money in a bed, not dancing!"  


"First of all, this is the twentieth century, it's not how you say it." Courfeyrac tried, rubbing fingers on his right temple. "Second, look around. Do you see him?" And Enjolras did, not spotting the main dancer anywhere. "Exactly. He left the stage towards the backstage. He is different, Enjolras. He does not take part with his friends around here, he does not...sleep with others for money." Courfeyrac cringed a bit when he said those words, much to Enjolras' pleasure.  


"You do not know, that is why you feel uncomfortable talking about it." The blonde smirked smugly, and Courfeyrac groaned, hitting his forehead on the table. It  
must have hurt but he didn't seem to mind the pain. "See. You are afraid I am right."  
"But Enjolras!" Courfeyrac whined. "I love him. I know it. You saw how he blew a kiss towards me and no one else." He tried, to Enjolras' dismissing hand.  
"Nonsense. You threw him an orchid. It was curtesy he had to reply to." The blonde sipped on the wine he had ordered during the performance. "Seriously, Courf. Get over it. You can not date a dancer."  


"And who are you to say that to me?" Courfeyrac said in a low tone. "The man who ever saw a pair of legs spread in front of him before." Enjolras parted his lips  
to protest but Courfeyrac kept talking. "What do you know about loving someone else, not only a whole, like a country? Nothing. I say it is possible and besides, I  
didn't brought you here for your blessing." He looked angry, and Enjolras raised an eyebrow at that. 

"Then why am I here?" Enjolras said in a more annoyed tone.  


"To have fun of course." Courfeyrac smiled bright, completely snapping out of his angry mood of his previous speech. Enjolras's forehead met his left palm, in a sign that meant he could never believe on Courfeyrac. Ever.  


As minutes passed, his chat with Courfeyrac had become lighter, and they talked about studies and law, democracy and social injustice. On the middle of his second wine glass, their best friend, Combeferre, appeared, placing his hands on Enjolras' shoulders, which made him jump in surprise. Courfeyrac laughed. "I'm glad you came to join us, Combeferre."  


Combeferre smiled, pushing the frame of his rectangular glasses further onto the bridge of his nose. Enjolras chuckled slightly. "Don't scare me like that." He said, rolling his eyes. Combeferre only smiled wider. "Apologies, my friend." Said him politely, pulling a chair for himself. 

"Courfeyrac talked you into this madness too?" Enjolras said with a hint of hope in his tone. Courfeyrac pouted childishly to grin later. 

"Actually, I came here with him the first time..." He chuckled, rubbing his temple. "And well...Now I come here often too." 

"Oh no." Enjolras' expression was one of horror. "Did you also fall for a dancer, Combeferre? You, of all people?" 

"No!" Courfeyrac chirped happily. "He fell for the bartender." He winked, nudging the other man. Combeferre's cheeks gained new colouration and Enjolras turned on his seat to look at the counter. The girl behind it was quite attractive herself, but not that much. 

"Well, at least not a dancer." Enjolras said simply, shrugging and turning back to his friends. Courfeyrac whined and sulked on his chocolate-y drink. Combeferre chuckled and got up. "I'll get my drink with her. See you soon." 

"Tell me all 'bout it!" Courfeyrac said with a thumbs-up. Combeferre nodded and winked, making the V-sign, the new trend from Churchill. Enjolras looked at them with disdain. 

"Combeferre." He shook his head. Who would say a scholar like Combeferre would fall in love so easily just as Courfeyrac? "I honestly think---" 

Enjolras' speech was cut by a hand sneaking down his shoulders. Courfeyrac made an amused face and stood only watching. Enjolras turned slowly, aware that the hand did not belong to his friend, since it was sliding further down to his chest. He narrowed his eyes at the newcomer. 

The owner of the hand was a man, perhaps a two or three years older than Enjolras, with curls dark as ink and eyes incredibly blue. His other hand was busy with a glass of wine, and he smiled seductively at Enjolras. He was dressed in the same manner of the dancers, but somehow he managed to look...fancier? It was not the correct word, but somehow it was, for he wore necklaces and brooches with pearls. Or fake pearls. Probably the latter. 

"Hello handsome." He purred, voice thick and rich. He smelled of alcohol, lots of it, and nicotine. "I've never seen you before...." The hand slid up again, to rest on his shoulder. "What's your name?" 

"Irrelevant. Please let go of me." Enjolras said cooly, a undeniably good blank face as he reached to remove the hand himself. The grip tightened a bit. 

"But monsieur." The man tried, licking his lips in a completely improper way. "Of course it is relevant. I am quite the screamer and would love to know what to moan later on." He gave a toothy grin, moving towards Enjolras' lap, intending to sit there. Enjolras folded his legs quickly. 

"Not interested. Leave me be." Enjolras snapped, yanking the hand off his shoulder. The dark-haired man seemed unpleased. 

"Oh." He said, narrowing his clear blue eyes. Taking a sip of his drink, he turned around with a sway of his hips. "Let's see if I can make you change your mind, my greek god."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And who is the new charachter? ;)


	4. The Special Show

Enjolras raised an eyebrow at the man who was flirting with him, and Courfeyrac started snickering. He ignored him. 

The blue eyed man walked away and made a nodded at Cosette, who sat close to the stage, chattering with customers. She saw him and nodded back, telling someone behind the curtains something. 

Suddenly, the dark haired man started snapping his fingers really loud. The dancers all looked at him, moving themselves from their seats on the customer's laps or seats. 

"Where are my blood brothers, let me hear your flow, brothers." He began to sing, and his voice wasn't bad at all. In fact, it was quite pleasant. Enjolras was surprised to find so, for he judged the man was a nicotine addict. He began swaying his hips sensually and started walking to the stage, leaving his glass on a table whose occupant got a blown kiss from him. The male seated there grinned, making the gesture of catching the kiss in the air and kissing his palm. The man who sang winked. 

"Hey brothers, go brothers, blood brothers, flow brothers." 

The background dancers started chanting that phrase, in a slightly higher tone, all of them snapping their fingers. Cosette the MC rose from her seat and smiled. 

"Welcome to Musain Rouge." She murmured in a seductive tone, and the audience applauded, cheering. 

"Wow!" Courfeyrac whispered to me, also clapping his hands. "This show is almost exclusive! I only saw it once. Lucky you!" 

Enjolras wasn't amused, at all. But something told him he should be, even though he disliked the man who was so blatantly flirting with him. And who was he anyway? 

The blue-eyed man was now up on the stage, with a microphone, with two other dancers behind him and the rest sitting on the stage, so they had better access to the floor. He kept swaying his hips side to side and snapping his fingers with the rhythm, just like the others did. But suddenly they were all silent, and the dark haired man who lead them sung solo for a second. 

"Ooh gent-marmalade." He whispered against the microphone. Enjolras looked around, some men were literally being driven wild. He had watched enough to guess that one's job. Now he stepped backwards and another young man took the lead singer position. His voice wasn't bad either, maybe because of an awful lot of training. 

This one young man had dirty blonde hair pushed back with gel, sea green eyes and high cheekbones. Attractive indeed. As he sang, he walked around the stage, closer to the audience and back, stretching his tie in his hands, long loosened by a bald man by the poker table, but still in his possession. It was clear that such act was to remind tying up, so Enjolras guessed already what did he do, supposing he worked like the man who flirted with him, besides singing. 

"He met Marmalade down in our Musain Rouge 

Strutting his stuff on the street 

He said, hello monsieur, 

You wanna give it a go, oh!" 

He used Cosette's stool to lean over, legs open supporting himself on the stage and he moved his hips behind himself, with a seductive smile. He had some glossy substance in his thin lips, so they were shiny and maybe....delectable? Enjolras guessed that that was the true intent of the gloss. 

"Gitchi gitchi ya ya da da 

Gitchi gitchi ya ya hee 

Mocca chocolata ya ya 

Creole Gent-Marmalade, oooh. 

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir 

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ?" 

The background dancers complemented with 'yeah' and 'oh' here and there. Lots of men and even the few women present that weren't staff cheered, whistling and clapping. In that moment, with that phrase, Enjolras was sure that one was also a prostitute. Even though the first lead singer of the night wasn't there, Courfeyrac seemed to be enjoying himself, but Enjolras was still unamused. Was that performance really exclusive? The song that played with them was upbeat, but he guessed it was exclusive because of that one who had been flirty. He glanced at him and found his eyes meeting the dancer's. The man smirked and Enjolras rolled his eyes. In that same moment, the blonde walked backwards, and another came in. He had ginger short hair and lots of freckles, in his pale cheeks and also legs, that were on full display by his outfit. His eyes were brown and shiny, sweeping the chairs. 

He sat on the stool the previous one was leaning on, legs spread open, closing them every once in a while the way ladies did. It caused wanton glances from several men in the audience. 

"He sat in his boudoir while I freshened up 

Boy drank all that magnolia wine 

On my black satin sheets 

Is where he started to freak, yeah" The movements he was doing was undoubtedly calling attention from everyone around. Many had their eyes set on his legs, that opened and closed, but he avoided looking at them. Someone with decency, at last, thought Enjolras. 

He leaned forward, legs spread open and mischievous eyes. However they widened when he looked at a spot in the audience, lips parting a bit. The guests might have thought it was to look innocent and sweet, but Enjolras guessed he saw something he disliked. He seemed to be forcing his voice to leave his throat to sing the rest of the song, but he pulled it off well. He contorted his body in a sensual way before singing again. 

"Gitchi gitchi ya ya da da 

Gitchi gitchi ya ya hee, ooh yeah yeah 

Mocca chocolata ya ya 

Creole Gent-Marmalade 

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir, ce soir 

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi? Oooh. " 

With a last sorry glance to the audience, he stood and walked backwards, barely remembering to swing his hips. The music kept on, and Cosette came on stage, sitting in her stool, a leg bent and one stretched down. She fixed her hat swiftly and cast a challenging glare to her audience, smiling wide. That one lad in love with her, Marius, along with few others whistled. 

"Yes, yes, ah! 

We come through with the money and the garter belts 

Let 'em know we 'bout that cake, straight out the gate 

We independent women, some mistake us for whores 

I'm saying, why spend mine when I can spend yours 

Disagree, well that's you and I'm sorry 

I'ma keep playing these cats out like Atari 

Wear high heeled shoes, getting love from the Jews 

These bad ass boys from the Musain Rouge 

Hey brothers, blood brothers 

Betta' get that dough brothers 

We drink wine with diamonds in the glass 

By the case, the meaning of expensive taste 

We wanna gitchi gitchi ya ya, come on! 

Mocca chocolata 

Creole Lady Marmalade" 

She sang with a upbeat and fast voice, bossy even. On the last phrase though, she took her time tasting the note, smiling wide. She got a lot of whistles herself. Enjolras kept watching. She got up from the stool and the background dancers, scattered behind, started chanting 'Marmalade' and 'ooh's. The one lad who was flirting with Enjolras step forward to the front sensually, smirking with the eyes glued to his target. Enjolras looked at him bored, challenging the man. He glared back at Enjolras with those gorgeous killer eyes and started singing. 

"Hey, hey, hey 

Touch of my skin feeling silky smooth, oh 

Color of cafe au lait, alright 

Made the savage beast inside 

Roar until he cried..." 

That was when he contorted his body and literally started moaning with the music the word "More!", around three times. Some men literally rose from their seats, whistling loud, eyes filled with desire towards the male. Definitely a prostitute, thought Enjolras with a frown. The second singer, one with brown eyes and that looked, at least for Enjolras, filled with fear in the end of his part, stepped beside the one who sang, arms around one of his colleague, hanging on him without applying force. He sang again, while the other just smiled, looking directly and only at Enjolras. 

"Now he's back home doing nine to five!" 

The first one came forward, sitting on his heels with the legs open and looking around the audience, licking his already shiny lips. Some men whistled. His tie was wrapped around his wrist. He wrapped a hand around the one (who wouldn't just quit staring at Enjolras. It bothered him mentally and physically) standing's shin, to keep balance. He parted his lips just a bit to sing. 

"Living a gray flannel life." 

Then finally, that one restarted singing. Enjolras thought he had sung too little, but why did it bothered him? His voice was nice, true, but nothing more. 

"But when he turns off to sleep, memories keep..." 

He did the one thing of moaning 'More' again, but this time with his companions. Cosette joined them, sitting on the stool, legs perfectly crossed. Together, the four chanted together. 

" Gitchi gitchi ya ya da da 

Gitchi gitchi ya ya hee, ooh! 

Mocca chocolata ya ya 

Creole Gent-Marmalade!" (Cosette said 'Lady Marmalade' behind the choir of men.) 

"Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir, ce soir 

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi? ("All my brothers, yeah" added Cosette) 

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir, ce soir 

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, oooh!" 

The dancers shut up for a moment, still in their positions of singing. Cosette spoke up, low and mysterious voice. She pointed with the tip of her boot to the one who had flirted with Enjolras. 

"'Aire". Aire? As in, the letter R? Must be his stage name. Of course. All of them should be getting stage names. At least he knew how to call him: R. R then winked to the audience, singing a note (which sounded more like a moan) after his name was called. 

"Polo." Was the name given to the one who looked a tad scared, with brown eyes. He winked to the audience, blowing them a kiss. He avoided gazing to certain point, Enjolras noticed. 

"Jolie." The first singer of that little show walked forward, and bowed to the audience, biting the loose end of his tie seductively and earning whistles and claps. 

'Jolie' walked backwards so he was standing by the other two sides and together, they sang the final phrase, an almost moaned 'Creole Gent-Marmalade'. Everybody, even Courfeyrac, rose from their seats, applauding the singers. Jolie and Polo did a small gracious bow, while R just turned to leave the stage. Cosette instructed whoever was in charge of music to put background music again as she excused herself and went backstage. 

"I don't see where that was so great." Enjolras said, rolling his eyes at Courfeyrac, whose eyes were incredulous to what Enjolras said. 

"Are you fucking insane? It was awesome!" He said, grinning wide. "I have come here a lot and this is the second time I've seen it! I think this was because of R. He wanted your attention, and he got it good." Courfeyrac smirked, much to Enjolras' eye roll. The blonde parted his lips to argue but then R appeared behind him, the seductive voice breaking the argument. 

"Have I convinced you yet?" He purred, hands massaging Enjolras' shoulder. Enjolras was going to shoo him away once more but he made good use of his hands and he hadn't noticed how tense he had been, and R was making the tension leave his muscles so he let him there. Two could play that game, of course. Enjolras smirked and tipped his head back, to stare into light blue eyes. 

"Maybe you have. But why did you come to me? I am certainly not rich and there are wealthy men in here for you to lure and suck the money from." 

R narrowed his eyes, hands not leaving Enjolras' shoulders. He smiled cheekily. 

"Money is not the only thing I suck." Courfeyrac muffled his laughter at the answer and at Enjolras' blush with a hand over his mouth. R winked. "Besides." He continued. "You are very _very_ handsome. I have seen almost every single man in Paris and no one is prettier than you. So I just thought....Why not treat myself for a night, choosing the fairest for me?" R looked deep into Enjolras' dark blue eyes, and the other man stared back at him for a few seconds. 

"Sorry R. I'm not interested yet." Enjolras smiled and pushed his hands off his shoulders, cracking his neck to the sides. Courfeyrac could barely believe his eyes, judging by the expression he pulled. 

R frowned. "Very well. One day you'll change that mind." With that, he turned and left, being stopped in his way by several men with interested looks. 

"Only Enjolras to reject R, the most wanted man in Paris." Courfeyrac's palm met his forehead, making a noisy slapping sound. Enjolras looked bored. 

"He is a prostitute, I don't require his services, thank you very much." He yawned. "I've seen enough. I'll be going." He got up and turned, getting his coat to leave. Courfeyrac said nothing, only waved at him and beckoned for Combeferre, who reappeared with a confused look to the table. 

When Enjolras found himself back in the cold air of the night of Paris' streets, now peaceful and safe of bombs, he caught himself thinking about clear blue eyes staring right into his soul and targeting his darkest desires, tempting his self-control into the abyss of a world of lust and desire. Enjolras blinked, looking around. He walked without thinking and was already in front of the door of the building where his small flat was. He looked very confused. It was a 15 minute walk from the cabaret to his house. Had he thought about the prostitute for that long? His cheeks burned with embarrassment and he fidgeted with the keys, entering the building in a hurry. 

And before he knew, he had succumbed to lust, with his hand wrapped around his erection fantasizing the mouth of R. Enjolras sure would curse like a sailor later on, but he let himself be guided by desire for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who are the dancers? ;)
> 
> Disclaimer: The song is by Christina Aguilera - Lady Marmalade. The gender alterations were made by me.


End file.
